


Watson Times Two

by B_Uthoughtwrong



Series: A Little Paint Covered Watson [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes (BBC Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Siblings, Character Insert, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7476441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Uthoughtwrong/pseuds/B_Uthoughtwrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you re into a fun romantic story involving Sherlock and an original charcter who happens to be John's sister, also possible typos, THEN THIS IS THE PERFECT STORY FOR YOU!!!</p><p>Audrey Watson's achieved a fine arts degree in Oxford and has gained success in the art world not easily made equal. She has traveled near and far in search for some peace of mind but she, like everyone else, cannot run away from their thoughts. While fighting through her mental battles, she remembered the brother she had who helped her get through the rough times. Living with John Watson, her proper and predictable soldier-doctor-brother, for a while would be a nice shift from her adventurous and spontaneous life. Packing up her things, she's ready to go feel a little bit of home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baker Street. 221-B to be exact

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ.  
> TRIGGER WARNING: MENTION OF ANXIETY AND PANIC ATTACKS!  
> Bruh, so I just thought of writing a Sherlock fanfic and yeah, so here it is. If you somehow like it, THANKS, and know that this'll be like a series, each story will have ten chapters (or maybe more?). This is the first part.
> 
> I HAVE MADE [PART TWO](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8442865/chapters/19341634).
> 
> Another thing I would like to add, is IF YOU'RE FEELING THE SAME WAY THE MAIN CHARACTER in the story is feeling, please DO NOT REFUSE TO SEEK HELP. I am not trying to romanticize this, instead, I'd like to make you guys aware that it's alright to ask for help and that through it all, you can get through the hardships life throws at you, all of it. Just stay strong and know you are not alone.
> 
> If you ever need to talk, genuinely I say, I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TALK.

She had her hands hidden in the sleeves of her black knit sweater as her left hand was on her grey trench coat, which was neatly folded on her lap, ready to be worn, and her right hand was holding on to a cup of coffee that had a ridiculous catch phrase, _'Brewed From The Heart'_. Though she had sweetened this cup with a heap of sugar and milk, it was still bitter and she's always choose tea over coffee any day. But perhaps this was only the British side of her talking.

Today, she was lucky enough to have gotten a window seat through her string of middle seat flights, and was in awe because of the sight beyond the glass. The sun was frosting the clouds with golden sunshine, her brown hair appeared to be golden due to the sunlight that was also shining on it, and the sky outside was breath-takingly blue.

She wished to paint the sight right here and then, but instead of doing any of that, she listened to the playlist she specifically made for when she was on a plane throughout the entire flight because she knew better than to create a mess she'd have to clean afterwards.

Her ears were warm and cozy due to the light blue headphones pressed up against them. She was relaxed as of this moment, knowing she would be with her brother in London in no time. She gazed upon the sky and the soft looking clouds, thinking that they were still far from her destination; she was only corrected by the pilot announcing that they were minutes away from London airport. As the announcement was made, the man next to her started to gather up his clutter, the same kind she would've made if she didn't know any better, and shoved them as 'neatly' as he could in a bag. She, unlike that man, wasn't in a hurry because she, through experience, knew better than to do as he did.

 

Now that they had just landed, about three minutes ago, she was waiting patiently for the passengers to exit the plane as she did not want to cram herself with the crowd of men, and women, and children. Instead, she finished what was left of her now room temperature drink, with her coat still on her lap, and continued to listen to the songs on her playlist.

Though the passengers that had sat in the same row as her had already left, she, through experience, knew better than to join in a race of impatient people, practically mosh-pitting by the exit, trying to get out of the plane as if their life depended on it. Though she was only twenty-eight, turning 29 on her birthday, travelling was something she often did, thus gaining a lot of experience concerning these sort of things.

Once almost everyone had left the plane, she slid her headphones to her neck, held on her now empty cup and trench coat, and got up to collect her baggage.  
She wasn't altogether short but her two, large bags that were quite heavy actually, she had only gotten used to it, were at the very end of the shelf, making it quite difficult for her to reach, not to mention she was holding a cup and coat in one hand. Beats me why she didn't put them down for a minute.

"Need some help there?" an American accented voice called out as the owner of it reached out for her two bags and gave it to her.

She turned her hazel eyes to him and smiled at the blonde, freckled man, "Thank you." she replied simply with a very British accented voice.

"Don't mention it." he replied not quite as simply as her.

She broke her gaze from him and got out of the plane with her things. "Hey wait up!" the same voice called out as she walked in her black, leather boots and she somehow managed to carry her two bags, an empty cup, and wear the grey trench coat that would reach the knees of black skinny jeans.

"Hey!" the voice said once more, catching up with her. She turned to the man that helped her get her bags and greeted him by saying, "Hello again."

"Yes, hi." he smiled. "You're from London, I could guess." he said to her as he fixed the collar of his black coat and held on to a single suitcase.

"And you are not." she replied. "And actually I'm from Yorkshire."

 

She knew what he was at and was not in the slightest interested as she has seen far more beautiful things and far more beautiful men to be quite honest, not that appearance would be the sole thing she would base a relationship upon. But maybe if she hadn't had a French-Italian supermodel admirer who had been trying to woo her in Munich, she would think the man was quite a looker. But she never really let herself get entangled in a relationship because she knew that love that starts from a place she would only stay in for a few months, wouldn't last very long.

It wasn't that she wouldn't have made it work, or that she was a pessimist, in fact she was an optimist, the biggest one she knew.

It was because she had read way too many stories with the same plot with the same ending of heartbreak and knew that the authors of these books were unconsciously trying to say,  **"DON'T BE AN IDIOT, READER!"**

 

The man had said he was called Edmond and that he was on a business trip in London for a few months, not that this mattered to her in the slightest. She introduced herself as Audrey but said nothing more. "What about you, what brings you to London?" he asked trying to continue a conversation she hadn't bothered to. "I'm visiting my brother for a few months." she replied simply, continuing to head to baggage claim.  
"Well, this isn't a coincidence then. You're staying here for a few months, I'm staying here for a few months. We should meet up." Edmond suggested almost tripping over his own feet. It was probably because she walked so fast and he could not keep up. She was now at the baggage claim and quickly spotted her black, wheeled bag that she had painted the Eiffel Tower on when she gazed upon it in Paris.

She turned to the out-of-breath looking man, gave him her empty coffee cup and went to her bag and to collect. "Darling," with this word, the man practically leap with excitement, little did he know she called almost everyone darling, "as I've said, I'm here to visit my brother and I'm flattered, _~~(not)~~_ really, but I'd rather keep my plans as planned." Audrey said turning to him as she held on to her three bags, trying to let him down easily.

He sighed, still holding the cup she had given, but smiled which meant he was still not giving in.

 

"Well, if you happen to change your mind, give me a call." he said handing her his business card. She politely took it, placed it in her coat's pocket, smiled, and walked away with her three bags, leaving the man and his now cup behind, and went off to get a cab. Immediately, she found a shiny, black, new-looking cab that had been waiting for a passenger.

The cabbie went out to take her bags but she didn't bother placing her them in the trunk, instead, she told the cabbie she would keep them with her in the backseat as she got in. The cabbie nodded, got in as well, and asked, "Where to, love?" as he looked at her reflected self on the rear view mirror. "Baker Street. 221-B to be exact." she said. The cabbie did not reply though, simply drove off instead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, you made it up to here. Great! Thanks for reading; I very much appreciate it. MWAH!  
> LOVE YOU  
> xxx


	2. BUT I'M NOT YOUR HOUSEMAID!

Britain had not British weather today. It was sunny and quite warm, to be honest. By now, they had passed through roads, and avenues, and streets, and narrow streets. She placed her phone and headphones in her bag.

As they passed by a busy bakery, filled with customers munching on all sorts of food, her stomach rumbled at the strong aroma of pastries and cakes that crept through the loose frame of the window. After passing more and more buildings and people, she then felt the cab go slow and saw her brother from afar.

She noticed that he was wearing the greyish-blue sweater she had got him all the way from The Netherlands and he fave grew a thoughtful smile because of that. She smiled his way though he couldn't really see her and saw that he was with an aged lady whose hands were held together, placed in front of her. The cab went to a stop and as it did, she opened the door by her left that was near his brother.

"Hello brother," she greeted the dirty blonde, bluish-green eyed brother she had.

"Hello sister," he replied smiling, showing his not-too straight teeth. "You don't happen to have... 15 pounds on you? I've only got Rupees on me " she said looking at her fair. She came from India by the way, New Delhi to be exact, learning about their culture, finding inspiration from everywhere she went and everyone she met.

"Oh, yes of course." he said reaching for the wallet in his back pocket in a hurry in order to pay the waiting cabbie. As her brother did so, she got out the other way, leaving the left door open, and closing the door she got out from. Her bags were stacked up on that side, blocking the door which is why she went the other way. The aged lady wearing a maroon colored top had gotten one of her bags but only took one, as she unluckily picked the heaviest bag Audrey had.

 

"Dear goodness, what on earth do you got in 'ere?" she asked placing the bag on the floor in front a black door which had the numbers 221 and a letter B on it.

"I'm sorry madam, I have quite heavy equipment on me." she replied as she pulled out the other two bags in the cab.

"It's Mrs. Hudson, darling. And may I ask why you need all those heavy equipment anyway?" she asked quite annoyed as Audrey put the other bags on the pavement and closed the door on the cab.

"Oh, didn't I mention my sister is an artist, Mrs. Hudson?" John said walking away from the cab, as it drove off, and placed his wallet at the back of his pocket once again and smiled their way. He pulled her sister in a quick but warm embrace and Mrs. Hudson smiled and clasped her hands together by her chin.

"Dear me, I've never met an artist before." Audrey took flattery in that, broke away from the embrace, and smiled sweetly at her.

"But I will not tolerate paint splatters, darling. Keep my apartment clean, ya hear." she said, causing Audrey to chuckle, walking off, getting inside, not bothering to carry that heavy old bag of Audrey's.

John took that bag instead, and the other one that wasn't as heavy, then headed inside following Mrs. Hudson. Audrey then took the remaining bag, the wheeled one, and got inside as well. The inside consisted of a hallway that was quite dim, due to the lack of light. There was a single bulb and the one window had a thick curtain only letting the smallest portion of light to creep through the uncovered part. There was dark colored floral wallpaper and a narrow staircase on the left side.

 

Through the dimness, it still looked very homey.

"Oh, I keep forgetting your name, dearie. What was it? Rory? Oli? Yes, yes, Short for Olivia?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she held onto the knob on the door, that was opposite the staircase, she was about to open.

"Oh, It's Audrey, actually. Audrey Watson." she said placing the bag on the floor for a while, turning to John who smiled at her, a smile that was soft and stern at once, meaning she knew; Mrs. Hudson knew why she was here. That made her slightly uncomfortable but grateful as well as she wouldn't have to explain herself too much if something happened.

Of course John talked about Audrey, she was his sister after all, and he's extremely proud of her. And of course this meant he had mentioned the reason why she was visiting.  
Mrs. Hudson felt bad for Audrey and what she had to go through and wanted to make sure she wanted her to feel right at home here and if anyone was to do otherwise, they'd have a piece of her mind.  
"Oh, so you aren't a married lass then." Mrs. Hudson said smiling. "No, no. If she were a married lass, I would've told you, as you would've wanted to know, as I would've wanted to know, as she would've told me as I would've told you, so you would've known if I had known if she were a married lass because she is indeed my sister who obviously would've invited me to the wedding." John said looking at Audrey who knit her brows and she threw back a puzzled expression.

"John, that was completely unnecessary and confusing." Mrs. Hudson said rolling her eyes, nodding her head in disapproval, opening the door, "If you darlings need me, I'll be right here." she said going inside and shutting the door with her.  
" _ **BUT I'M NOT YOUR HOUSEMAID!**_ " she shouted through the door, making the both of them laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hello again, you made it all the way here too? Great! Thank you for reading, I still very much appreciate it.


	3. Can I draw you, love?

"Shall we go upstairs, then?" John asked still holding the bags on either of this hands. "Yes, we shall." Audrey replied. John lead the way, marching up the stairs like the soldier he is. Once he got to the top, he stepped back to the side and made it clear that she was to open the door for he was holding her two bags and obviously couldn't so under that circumstance. She reached for the brass door knob, turned it, opened the door, and walked in.  
The room was quite simple and quite dusty. Audrey would have to scold his brother for not dusting before she got here. She's terribly allergic to dust, pollen as well actually. She placed the bag she held on the floor by the brownish, leather sofa that was near the entrance and was pushed up against the wall. She found that there was a coat rack there as well and hung her coat on it. Then, she walked farther in, taking in the atmosphere of the place, twitching and scratching her nose due to the dust. Just like downstairs, it had dark wallpaper but the wallpaper up here was less floral and reminded her of the wallpaper of _Mr. Bean_.

There she noticed that there was a curly haired man sitting on a dark grey sofa chair with his hands pressed together, the tips of his fingers placed on his chin.

"And that would be Sherlock Holmes" John said placing the bags by the sofa, removing his coat, hanging it on the coat rack, then heading to the kitchen. He had told her about Sherlock, how he has this power of deduction and how he would almost instantly solve the murder with one look. Audrey found his name, Sherlock Holmes, quite peculiar... no, no, atypical, she would say. She imagined his parents named him after the first thing that popped into their heads and she imagined it briefly.

 

 

> _"Oh, darling," the mother would say, "hows about we name 'em Cornwall."_  
>  _"Cornwall! Preposterous! I refuse to have a child named after corns and walls." the father would reply._  
>  _"Gerald." the mother would say._  
>  _"No!" the father would shout just the same._  
>  _"Everett."_  
>  _"No!"_  
>  _"Kingston."_  
>  _"No!"_  
>  _"Excaliber?" "As in the sword?" the father would scratch his head at that silly name. "Oh, no, no, well, hmm, what about Denise?" the mother would say all flustered._  
>  _"Darling, that's a girl name." the father would remind._  
>  _"Carmichael. Levis. Maddox. Raul. Oh, oh, what about Orion!" the mother would suggest, quite pleased._  
>  _"I love you darling, but those names are absolutely horrid names."_  
>  _"Well, what do you suggest then, aye!" the mother would shout in frustration._  
>  _"Well, I just actually thought of the perfect name..." the father would reply, feeling all proud and superior. "Well, what is it then? Spit it out!" the mother would press with a cross tone._  
>  _"Sherlock!"_  
>  _"Aye? Sherlock?"_  
>  _"Yes, Sherlock. It's bloody brilliant ya hear!"_  
>  _"Honestly, that's about the most idiotic thing I've ever 'eard." the mother would say, scratching her head. There'd be a silence for seconds. "But it's idiotic enough to be BRILLIANT! And to think he's even have Holmes as a last name!" the mother would shout in glee in the end._

 

Snapping out of her elaborate story line behind why Sherlock Holmes was named Sherlock Holmes, she looked at the features of the man and was intrigued by the structure of his face and the sheer fierceness of his expression. His eyebrows were knit, eyes were seal shut, and he was obviously in deep concentration. She snapped her fingers in front of his face once, twice, thrice and John heard these snapping sounds. He turned to its source and found humor from her sister's silly actions.

"He's been sitting there for ages." he said with a soft chuckle, heating a kettle. "Where does he go? What does he think about?" she asked he brother.  
He briefly stopped what he was doing to answer her questions.

"He calls it his mind palace and there, I would believe, he thinks of how to solve his murder cases and just thinks. That's what he does best. Think and solve murders." She nodded at that and remembered that he had mentioned that he was a self-proclaimed, self-made Consulting Detective and a highly functional sociopath.

 

"Would you fancy a cup of tea?" he then asked her sister, breaking her train of thought. She stopped snapping her finger, which she actually forgot she was doing that, and observing the frozen man, turned to him, and sighed in relief. "Yes, yes, yes please! Goodness! I had coffee on my flight. Awful, awful, awful coffee! Cold coffee, in fact!" she said shuddering, and grimacing, and scratching her nose as she walked towards her bags. John laughed at her sister as he continued what he was doing.  
Audrey then unzipped the heaviest bag she had, revealing the things inside. Books, notebooks, scrapbooks, drawing books, paint, pastels, crayons, brushes, pencil cases, and everything else in between. She pulled out one of her drawing books, the one she specifically used for sketching using pencils, and a single pencil.

 

She moved back towards the man who was still in the same manner as he was when she had snapped her fingers in front of his face a few seconds ago. She then sat on the brown sofa chair that was placed in front of the fiercely concentrated man as she held on to a pencil and her drawing book.

"Can I draw him, darling?" she asked, proceeding to sneeze cause of the dust, turning to her brother as he prepared a tray with two cups of tea with a tea bag in each, a cup of sugar, and a cup of milk.

He placed the tray on the dining table and thought, "Well, that wouldn't really be my decision, now would it?"

"Well... yes, I suppose not." she said, raising her left brow.

She, still holding on to the pencil and drawing book, moved closer to the man close enough to feel him breathing in and out. She smiled, knowing that he was indeed still alive, just frozen out of concentration. "Can I draw you, love?" she whispered slowly as if, if she had raised her voice, she would scare the soul out of him, but she had yet learn that this man, at least most people would say and agree with, did not really posses one.

 

Sherlock stayed still and Audrey smiled and nodded at that know that she could do whatever he pleased for the man would stay like that for goodness knows how long. She sat once more on the sofa chair and proceeded to draw him. She wanted to make sure she captured the fierceness of his face and that it would be as if he had his picture taken with a camera that had a pencil styled feature. Yet, she also wanted to romanticize it, mixing her emotions with the drawing making it look quite unreal.  
She payed close attention to his face, making sure to capture the fierce expression he held and giving it justice in the drawing. Every curve, every shadow, every outline, she wanted to make sure it would imitate reality.

 


	4. I'VE GOT IT WATSON

At this point, she had finished drawing and signed the bottom right edge of the drawing with her initials, ABW, and the date, JULY7, then scratched her nose. She only did this on her private art pieces, and not in her public ones, she would sign AUDREY WATSON plus the date. Now they were talking their ears off as they sat on the sofa. She was talking about her adventures all over the world and and art she made herself and with her friends, while he was talking about her adventures all over London and the crimes he helped solve.

"Well, I mean he does most of the solving but I really do help." John said sipping on his third cup of tea. Audrey chuckled and sipped on her third cup of tea as well. "I'm serious! I'm not as useless and you all think I am." he said with a soft smile but conveyed a hurt look behind his eyes. It broke her heart to see her brother like that.

"Darling, whoever told you you're useless will get a piece of my mind. Who are they? I'll introduce them to my fists." she said placing her cup on her platter, placing it on her lap to show her balled up fists as her nose twitched.  
John laughed at that. "As much as I'd appreciate that, if I wanted to beat someone up, I would've done so. I was a soldier if you've forgotten. I am more than capable of taking care if myself." he said finishing the last of his cup.

"Yeah but if you need me, you know--" "I'VE GOT IT WATSON!" were the words that cut Audrey's sentence up short, almost making her spill the remaining tea she had left.

 

"The jealous best friend was the murderer responsible for both of the dead bodies, obviously." the non-frozen man said jumping up from his seat. "The only reason why there was a different manner of knife strokes is because he was brilliant enough to think of using his left non-dominant hand for a more torturous kill, and his right, dominant hand for a swif--" he stopped himself to look at the Watsons who were chatting on the couch.

"Sherlock, this is my sister--" "Audrey Watson. Third Born. 28. Ambidextrous, but uses right hand, mostly. Allergic to dust thus the nose twitching and scratching. Acclaimed artist. Won multiple awards around the world. Fine arts degree, acquired in Oxford with honors. Came here from India... Momba-no, New Delhi and will stay here for a few months because she misses her brother." he said placing his hands on his back, arrogantly turning around to add stress to the fact he found all that very simple. Of course Audrey was impressed but she already knew about his brilliance, and she knows her brother would've mention at least her name to him. And she was right, John did tell him something, something he couldn't really deduct, her name.

Why do you think he skipped saying her middle name?

The siblings look at each other after Sherlock said the last part. True, she did miss her brother but it wasn't the real reason as to why she was here. Audrey felt some relief in that, knowing he didn't know about her... condition.

 

"I'm impressed." she said simply to the man. John smirked and stood up to wash up the tea cups they had drank from. "May I?" he asked her sister. She gladly gave him her now empty up as Sherlock turn around with a dissatisfied look plastered on his face. "Impressed? Why, that hardly seems... genuine." he said with a look of offence as he sat back on his sofa chair. She laughed at him and Sherlock turned back at her, looking quite confused.

"What was the joke?" he asked, stern.

"You're arrogance." she replied, amused.

She then stood up and got the drawing book and pencil she left on the sofa chair she had sat on. "I drew you, by the way." she said sitting there once more, crossing her legs. Sherlock knit his brows, pressed his hands together once more, rested them on his chin, and crossed his legs as well. "I hope you don't mind, but really there's nothing you can do about it now. I've finished the drawing hours ago. You, Mr. Holmes, are now a piece of my art." she said flipping through the pages of her book, looking for her drawing of Sherlock. Once she found the drawing, she showed him the finished product. It was well drawn but this did not really impress her for she had done far more detailed and realistic works before. The blue eyed man looked at her drawing of him with a black expression, as if he were... deducting him, or himself, you could say.  
There was a brief moment of silence only to be broken by the sweet and hopeful voice of the younger Watson.

"So, what do you think of it?" She always wanted the people she drew to like their portrait because who would ever want to have their work called rubbish; it has happened before, mind you.

Sherlock said nothing but his face shifted to a face of disgust, then he looked away. Audrey's heart broke a little as he did that.

 

She then stood up and placed the items back in her bag, pulled her coat off of the rack, and headed out to get some air, also maybe to exchange the Rupees she still had, but she couldn't do that, her wallet was in her other bag. She groaned in annoyance as she marched down the stairs, putting on her coat. Out of all the things she wanted was to start crying because Sherlock found her work uninteresting. She knew that he didn't say that, and that she was over reacting, and she was warned about how he doesn't really feel emotions, at least the good ones, but he didn't have be so, so rude!

 

"Oh darling! Are you al-Was it Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she held on to a tray of tea, as she closed the door with her foot. Her face instantly softened at the sight of the lady. She thought that it would be rude to already show that side of she as had only arrived. She also thought of how full she already was with the tea she had drank with her brother.  
"Oh, em, no, I em just wanted to go out and-" "Audrey." John interrupted. "Mrs. Hudson." he added. "I um, was just looking for Audrey."  
"Well John, she's right 'ere. I reckon Sherlock had done something already." she said climbing up the stairs, forcing both Watsons to go back inside.

Mrs. Hudson placed the tray on the dining table and went up to Sherlock, placing her hands on her hips.  
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson?" he asked nonchalantly.  
"Dear boy, she's only stayed here for two seconds and you've been rude already?" she said with a displeased tone. Audrey had now regretted her actions as she did not really want Sherlock to get into trouble because of her overly emotional emotions.  
"I haven't done anything, she's simply too e--"  
"DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT! Of course she has emotions, she human. You are too, just a little less. Anyways, she won't be staying long so be nice or else." Mrs. Hudson said before Sherlock could've said 'too emotional'. Audrey looked at John who looked at her with a sympathetic look.

 

This was why she was here, her emotions. This was not the problem however. Ever since she was little, she displayed these emotions. She cried when she felt like it, and smiled when she felt like it, making sure everyone knew just how she felt and how sensitive she was. This made her easy pray for bullies, calling her names, teasing her, taunting her. She then tried to suppress these emotions and tried not to feel altogether.

Eventually, through the excessive forced suppression she's done, she has had a hard time in letting people in and conveying the right emotions. She then got anxiety, fearing of feeling the wrong thing at the wrong time and she barely let her guard down, leading to her getting less sleep and putting her on the edge more. That crucial change then lead to her having panic attacks.  
She had friends that then heavily influenced her to turn to drugs but she knew in her heart, messed up and broken as it may be, that that was one thing she did not need. Instead, she opened up to her brother and eventually went to therapy. Her therapist recommended medicine that helped with the anxiety and panic attacks, and doing something productive when she felt down, like art.

 

This is what has fixed her, her art. It started as a way to help relieve her tension, but it then became a hobby, then into her passion, the one of the main reasons she loved living. But the thing is, people judge art, it was a thing supposed to be judged, and when they did hers, it was really like judging her.

This was why she did not read the newspapers or magazines that would write about her, or go to critique events or places that had her artwork. But when she did go, she would never converse with anyone viewing them or had something to say about it. The only opinions she's heard are from people that were close to her but that doesn't really mute out the world's opinion, does it?  
At this point, she questioned her actions? Why had she shown Sherlock the drawing in the first place? WHY? Was it because she felt like she had to because he didn't really let him draw him.  
Mrs. Hudson had left by now and John had told Sherlock to apologize to Audrey. Sherlock just looked at her and opened his mouth.

 

"It's alright love, I was... too emotional." she said to him using the word he would've said, leaving both John and Sherlock, taken aback.

 

"Ehm, so you know how there's only two bedrooms here. Well, I was wondering if I could sleep in yours... just for tonight of course." Audrey asked Sherlock, biting on her lower lip. It was a thing she did a lot.

Sherlock clench his jaw and thought that he wasn't really using it, might as well let her sleep... just for tonight, as she's said. "Alright then but-" Sherlock never got to finish for Audrey didn't wait for him to do so, he just walked off and picked in a bedroom to sleep in, not bothering to find out which was which.  
She picked the right one, nonetheless, removing her coat, and boots, leaving them on the floor as she threw herself on the made bed, pulling herself under the sheets. She guessed he hadn't slept here in months because it smelled like detergent and nothing like a human.

 

She faintly heard the voices from outside. Her brother, John, was arguing with Sherlock.  
"Don't be so rude to her, Sherlock! Don't make rude, smart-arse remarks! Don't!" John huffed. "No, no, you know what, don't talk to her altogether if not talked to." John ranted, probably pacing around the room as he did.  
"I don't see why she --" Sherlock replied, probably still sitting on his blasted sofa chair. She thought of putting pins on it, as of right now, but decided against it as she was not that horrid.  
"Exactly, you don't. You deduce for a living and yet you can't see the simple things right in front of your face."  
"..."  
"Sherlock, she is my sister, my younger sister. I feel more responsible for her than Harry!" he sighed.  
"I'd walk her to school, chase after her if she'd forgotten her lunch, taught her to ride her bike, brought her to Oxford on the first day, watched her graduation, gone to her first art exhibit, protect her from nasty, wandering-eyed men. She's my sister, my baby sister. Please, please... treat her kindly, more kindly than you treat me. You doubt your emotional capabilities but I don't. So please, Sherlock. Do it for me."  
That was were it ended, not another word was said and she had actually fallen asleep right after.

 

No one know what'll happen tomorrow, Audrey and John only pray that it be good.


	5. Don't worry Sherlock, this doesn't make you less of a psychopath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you know how the first chapters were in third person point of view, well this one is in first point of view and will be in Audrey's and so will others, I'll indicate if I change the P.O.V. Also, there are a lot of mundane, human things Sherlock obviously still has to do, like do his laundry, I don't really know how he does normally for obvious reasons, so I just added some things to fill those holes up. m'kay.

I woke up with faint sun shining through the window. I groaned, and scratched my eyes then tried to fall asleep again. As I faced the right side of the room, I saw the alarm clock on the side table. It was 7 am, 7:04 to be exact. I wasn't really one to wake up early but at this point my brain started making a mental list of all the things I had to do today. I groaned, because I couldn't turn my brain's thoughts off, so, instead of trying, I pushed the sheets off of me and sat at the left side of the bed. There I felt my feet hit something. I looked at what I hit and it saw it was my bags. I smiled thoughtfully at John who was the one who obviously put them here. My eyes were still quite heavy, so I looked around the room, in hopes of finding something interesting to gaze upon so I won't feel too sleepy.  
The room was pretty bare and empty. It had white walls and white curtains and a white bed with white sheets. With this, I could infer Sherlock didn't do anything here, maybe he slept on the bed a handful of times but not enough to have left his scent on the sheets. Or, he just washed his sheets... no, no, he wouldn't do that, I doubt he even does his own laundry.

But if that's so, then who does?

 

Pushing that thought out of mind, I stretched in place, and decided to take a shower, unzipping the bag that had my clothes in them. Once I did, I saw that they were still neatly folded and I pulled a pair of pretty, black, lace underwear, not that it really mattered it was pretty, cause it's not like anyone's going to see them. I also pulled out denim overalls, my favorite grey sweater that had a single Brachiosaurus printed on the front of it, and I laid them on the bed.  
I then pulled out a transparent bag with my travel toiletries and I felt excitement rush through me because I absolutely love using my bath soap that smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and shampoo that smelled like lavenders and lilacs.

Yes, I am one of those people.

I didn't have a towel with me though, so holding the bag of toiletries, I stood up and looked around for a towel. I instantly found one on top of the brown, wooden cabinet, laid out for me. John, my wondrous brother, thank you. I took the white towel, still holding the bag, and traveled to the bathroom.

 

I placed the things I was holding on a surface by the sink and stripped by clothes off. I then unzipped the transparent bag, pulled out shampoo and bath soap, then got in the shower. I turned the shower and and started to clean myself. I started with my hair, getting my shampoo, washing with it thoroughly, not forgetting to scrub and massage my scalp as well. I rinsed of the purple colored shampoo off, leaving my hair smelling like lavenders and lilacs. I then got my bath soap and spread it all over my body, massaging myself as I did so. I loved, loved, loved taking shower because I got to use these items. I rinsed the soap of, wrung my hair, and got out of the shower. Using the towel, I wiped some of the water off of my skin, then I wrapped it around me. I got my shampoo and soap, washed of the bubbles off of it, wiped it on my towel, then placed them in the transparent bag. I walked out of the shower, holding my things, and was startled as I saw a tall man waiting outside with me with knit eyebrows.

"What were you doing?" he asked quickly, making me hold on to the part of the towel that was wrapped tightly by my chest, partly cause I was startled and it was my immediate repose when I get startled, partly because I wouldn't want it to fall off while Sherlock was in front of me. I was naked underneath if you hadn't already known, but he didn't seem phased by that in the slightest, but it definitely phased it.  
I knit my eyebrows as well as well, "I was taking a shower, darling. Sherlock Holmes need't deduction to know that."   
I tried to push past him but he was blocking my way and used his size to his advantage.  
"I heard moaning and groaning, it didn't really sound like someone taking a shower." he said raising his brows. I opened my mouth, to reply to him but then realized what he was implying.  
"I was taking a shower!" I said feeling my entire face burn with embarrassment.

"Wow, **loud** in the shower; _**louder**_ in the bedroom." he said with a hard face looking like he was stating as fact. I was in shock because of what he said and I didn't really have anything to reply to it.  
"Also, that's _my_ towel." he said reaching out for it.  
"WOAH! You can hav-" but his hands traveled a bit lower than I expected. "SHERLOCK!" I shouted.  
"See." he said, his hand retreating. I looked at the area his hand went and saw that there was a tag that had the name Sherlock written on it with a black marker. I give him a confused look and asked, "Why would you write your name on the tag of your towel?"

"So people like you won't take it." he said walking off to the living room. I stood there, dumbfounded, processing what had just happened. I guess John hadn't laid it out for me after all. The sound of the violin was what brought me back into the real world.

It sounded pleasant, I thought but I will not admit that to him, at least until his arrogance has worn off.

 

I got inside the bedroom and shut the door as I did. I locked it, just in case Sherlock would, for some apparent reason, like to get something as I got dressed. At this point, I put my used clothes on top cabinet, not really caring what happens to it. I dried myself all the way through, wore my clothes, combed my hair, and went to my still open bag full of clothes. I got my favorite pair of socks, the one that was in a deep color of blue, had glittery stars, and the words, **_Las Estrellas Son Para Usted_** , The Stars Are For You. My friend who was a tailor, now a high-end fashion designer, made these for me on the 24th birthday I had, spent in Madrid. I had always loved the stars, and I've made many paintings proving so, and I also liked socks more than any article of clothing, so my friend, Julia, made me a special pair.

I stepped out of the bedroom, and saw that there was a tray of tea waiting for someone on the dining table. "May I?" I asked turning to the man playing the violin. Sherlock didn't say anything though, he just continued playing his music. "Thank You." I replied to his music, softly, pouring myself and him a cup, taking a seat.

 

John woke up just as I remembered I didn't have a toothbrush, and didn't brush my teeth, still looking quite sleepy as he walked towards me. "Good morning." he said stretching and yawning comically.

"Good morning." I replied sweetly sipping my cup of tea, then placing it back on table.

He took the cup I was supposed to give Sherlock. "Muffin-head! That's for Sherlock." I said getting it from him before his lips could touch the cup. " _Dey-Bri_ , he wouldn't take it from you, he's too busy playing."

"Well, I haven't tried giving it to him yet. I have to make it known to him that there's no bad blood here." I said holding the cup of tea. "Maybe he'll take it, maybe he won't, or maybe he just wants his tea to be in a sippy-cup." I said making him chuckle. I stood up, still holding the cup of tea, and walked over to him.

"Tea, Sherlock." I said with an insisting tone, standing in front of him, moving the cup of tea closer to his face, holding it with my two hands. He didn't mind me though; he just continued playing his violin.

"Sherlock." I said, making my voice a little louder. I saw his eyes turn to me, but he quickly looked away in hopes I didn't notice, striking his violin. I smirked at this, "Aha, I got you! You know you want this cup of tea and you want it bad. Just take it!" I said pushing the cup towards his face. But he still acted as if there was no such object in front of him. I huffed, pulled the cup away from the stubborn man, then quickly glanced at my brother who looked very amused by my actions.

He mouthed something to me, _call him a **psychopath**_ **.**

 _Rude,_ I mouthed back. That would be terrible of me. Just as I was supposed to tell John of for it, I remembered that story he told me concerning him being called a psychopath, then nodded slowly his way.

"Don't worry Sherlock, this doesn't make you less of a **_psychopath_**." I said to him still playing a smirk on my lips. This immediately threw him off, causing him to stop playing his violin, and glaring at me. "I am not a _psychopath,_ I'm a-"

"High-functioning sociopath." I said pushing the tea closer to him once again. "Tea. It's quite nice."

He didn't say anything, or move. I don't think he even breathed. He just looked at me with with a face of pure annoyance then all at once, he did all those things he did not then played his violin violently. I raised my brows and rolled my eyes at him. "Sherlock, I don't know why you have to be all stubborn about accepting a cup of tea. I'm just showing you kindness so you'll know I don't hate you." I said placing the cup of tea on a desk with piles of paper. I guessed it was his cases and things concerning them. "Look, I know you probably are against people actually liking you but drink the tea. I don't want it to be wasted." I added walking off to my, er, Sherlock's bedroom.

 

I went to my bags and got my dark blue, leather wallet, also my black, leather boots that were placed neatly beside my bags. I think you must also know that all my leather items are synthetic, I don't want to have to skin an poor animal in order to have a pretty looking accessory. I then got my grey trench coat that John surely hung on the hook behind the door. It was next to a longer, black trench coat which I presume is Sherlock's.

"When I get back, I would like that you have finished your cup of tea, darling. Alright?" I obviously said to Sherlock, walking out the room as I wore my coat, pulling my hair out of the collar.  
"Wait, where are you going?" my brother asked pointing at me. 

"Rupees, John. Rupees."

 


	6. What's with the umbrella?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: A CHARACTER HAS A PANIC ATTACK IN THIS CHAPTER!

I was now travelling towards my destination, holding my wallet bare in my hands, and if you guessed right, you would've guess I was going to the bank. I walked from the house to the bank because I remembered passing by it when I first got here. Also, just as yesterday, it was fair and sunny which made me want to walk.

Why cage yourself behind window?

I saw the bank from afar and it has white columns everywhere and a garden up front.

Once I actually got there, I immediately fell in line and observed the surrounding. It was cool inside, not warm, not hot, not cold but cool. There was a large painting of Queen Elizabeth II and the Prime Minister underneath the a very large digital clock. Underneath all those things, was smaller painting of the man who owned the bank. I was quickly entertained as there wasn't really anyone in line. I gave her my money and I she changed it into pounds, leaving me with 20,000.  
This will last long enough, I don't really have to buy anything because there's John and Sherlock to provide for my needs, mostly John, also I'm  more of a saver rather than a spender. I placed the money back in my wallet and mind you, my wallet got quite think due to the money so I placed it in the deep pocket of my coat.

After, I was now walking out of the bank but someone stopped me, placing his hand on my shoulder, an employee, I think, who was wearing a black suit and a dark red tie. "Hello miss, we would like to have a word with you." he said causing me to stop. "It's very important and we'd like to have the conversation with you in private." he added. We? What's with that?

"Is this about the money I exchanged?" I asked. He lead me outside, pulling me by my biceps. I started to breath heavily as I realized he was not an employee from the bank, and tried to break out of his grasp.

 

"Don't worry Ms. Watson, you will not be hurt." he said as we got to a black car. Dear goodness he knew my name. He opened the door, and told me to get in and I nodded no, and stepped back a bit but he was still holding me.  
"I don't know you, what is this about?" I asked gulping the excess saliva my mouth was producing.

"All your questions will be answered if you get in." he said motioning me to get in. Dear goodness, am I really about to get in? I huffed air out of my cheeks and got inside the car. He closed got inside as well and closed the door.

 

We immediately started moving and I looked to the man.

"Do you promise I won't get hurt?" my voice was shaky when I asked. He turned to me, nodded, and cracked a small smile, "On my soul."

 

 

We got to an abandoned warehouse of some sort and I was now being lead by the same man somewhere inside. I had stuffed my hands in the pockets of my coat in sheer nervousness. I then saw from afar that there was a figure of a man leaning with his hand on a cane. The man who had been leading me told me to go to him and I slightly started to panic. He assured me nothing would happen and being the too-trusting person I am, I just went with it and walked towards the figure.

Once up close, I saw that he was also wearing a black suit and did not have a cane, but an umbrella, and there was also a chair in front of him, facing him.

"Hello Miss Watson." he said to me when I got close enough. "Please, sit." he said extending his arm to refer to the chair.  
I nodded no and said, "I'll sit only if you sit."  
"Then I believe were standing." he replied. "Your brother didn't want to sit down either."

With those words, I felt that my body was falling into a panic attack but I shrugged it off, diverting my attention elsewhere. "What's with the umbrella?" I asked, trying to think of something else with curiosity also getting the best of me.

He knit his eyebrows at that, "I fetched you from the bank, brought you here in an abandoned warehouse and yet, you ask me about my umbrella?"

"Well, It's obvious that you don't need my money because you prove to not need it and your friend there did say that I was going to talk about something important. I would think this is an interrogation and that thought adds up, but your umbrella... is making me think this is... something else, something odd." I said shifting uncomfortably, feeling my hands shake in my pockets.

"Smart girl." he said.

"I just like being prepared for the worst." he added looking the umbrella then at me with the same level of intensity as Sherlock would, making me feel ever so nervous.

 

"Now, what is your business staying in Baker Street?" he asked throwing me off. What? Why would you care Mr... wait, what was your name? Oh right, he didn't introduce himself.  
"Hold on, it's not fair that you know my name and I not know yours." I said getting defensive and feeling myself tense up.  
"My name isn't important, what's important is is why you are staying in Baker Street?"  
I bit my lower lip in nervousness, "An answer for an answer." I said clenching my jaw, breathing heavily.  
He sighed then nodded. "Alright."  
"Your first and last name please." I said, taking a step back, knitting my eyebrows, breathing in a breath of air that hitched and huffed it out quickly. He observed my actions then said. "Mycroft."  
I bit my lower lip again expecting him to say his last name but he didn't. I then said, "Half an answer for half an answer."  
"I'm staying with my brother for a few months." I added clenching my jaw once more, stepping back as well.

"Yes, yes, but I already know that part. Why? Why are you staying with him for that long?" he pressed moving closer to me, making me move back even more.  
My breathing got heavier, "I-I-"

Then suddenly I felt my head go lighter. I was having a panic attack. I almost fell because of how light headed I was. I felt very out of balance but thankfully Mycroft got close enough to help me regain it. He looked at me with a concerned look on his face and lead me to the chair that was casually placed in the middle of the empty place.


	7. I thought you don't do apologies

I was breathing quickly and heavily, and Mycroft sat me down. "Breathe slowly now." he said in a calm voice. "Just breathe."  
"In and out, slowly." he said holding my wrist. "Your pulse is irregular, you have to regulate your blood circulation."  
"Just breath." he said for what felt like the hundredth time.  
"Relax, no one is going to hurt you." he said moving back, probably to give me space. He was helping me calm down and I was slowly responding.

"It's alright."

Once I was completely calm, he moved a tad closer to me, observing my breathing. "Panic attacks, and anxiety. Acquired from peer disheartening and excess suppression of emotion." he said straightening his already straight posture, getting the answer he needed. Why I was there.

Hearing how precise his statement was, I turned to him with a puzzled expression on my face. "Are you some sort of psychologist or behaviorist?" I asked feeling my palms sweat and go cold.

"I can make a deduction." he said walking off.

 

"Hey!" I said standing, "An answer for an answer." I said referring to the spectacle I just made. 

He stopped, put his hands on his back, arrogantly, still holding on to that umbrella. Wait, the intense look, the _placing-hands-on-back-thing-to-show-how-good-at-deductions-and-amazingly-arrogant-I-am pose_ , I know a only one man you does that. "Holmes?" I inferred. "Are you... brothers?" I added.

"Smart girl." he said walking again. "Bring her home." he said to the man who had brought me here. He nodded and took me home.

 

Once I got back, I saw that Sherlock was still playing the violin and John was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. "Hello darlings." I said removing my coat, hanging it on the coat rack. John turned to me and smiled.

I sat down next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. I then whispered that I had a panic attack and he turned to me and gave a hug.

"I'm so sorry _Dey-Bri_ , what happened?"

"Well, I talked to Mycroft." I said. Sherlock must have heard the name and he stopped playing his violin. "Mycroft? What did he want." he raised his voice, asking pointing his bow at me. "SHERLOCK!" John shouted standing up. "DO NOT POINT YOUR BLOODY BOW AT HER AND DO NOT PRESS HER! DON'T EVER TALK TO HER LIKE THAT!"

"John, it's okay." I said standing as well, holding placing my hand on his shoulder.

"He asked why you were here, didn't he?" he said putting his violin and bow down, pacing around the room. Before I could reply, there was then a ring tone and the three of us looked at each other.  
"It's mine." John said, pulling out his phone.  
"Excuse me for a bit." he said walking out of the room leaving Sherlock and I looking at each other.

 

"He did, Sherlock. He did ask me why I was here and I answered." I said sitting back down on the sofa remembering the horrid feeling of having a panic attack. He looked at me intently after that, obviously deducting me.

"You had a panic attack." he said still looking at me with intensity. When will he ever look at me softly?

 

I couldn't say anything, he now knew why I was really here. He knew my condition, he knew I was an emotional grenade. "I apologize for raising my voice at you." he added. I was taken aback by this.

"I thought you don't do apologies?" I asked, biting my lower lip.

"I never said that." he said staying put on where he stood, still looking at me. This is a statement I must remember 'til next time..

 

"Audrey, Sherlock, um, I'm going out." John said with a smile, indicating he was _going out_... on a date, getting his coat. "Don't wait up on me." he added. I knit my brows and rolled my eyes. "John, it's  11 am. I don't think your date will last that long." I said rolling my eyes.

Sherlock's face softened, a smile creeping on his lips.

"Wow, little sister. Just-wow." John said raising his brows in offence. "What?" I asked innocently.

"It's true." and with that, Sherlock couldn't take it and burst into laughter. I joined in and John rolled his eyes and left.

"Oh muffin-head, be a sport!" I called after him with a giggle.

Sherlock's laughter faded and he once again intensely looked at me. "Lestrade called." he said. "He's a detective inspector."

I looked at him and nodded, thinking he was going to tell me a story about one of his friends. But I just confused myself with this because doesn't he have any, as I recall, I mean excluding my brother obviously.

"There was a murder." he then looked away, placing his hands on his back again. "Would you like to come with me?" he asked.

 

I knit my brows and smiled softly. I was at a loss for words. This man, this peculiar man never seems to have a constant. He was first calling me too-emotional, then he was shouting at me, pressing for answers, then apologizing for it, then laughing at a joke I made, then asking me to come with him to solve a murder.

"You want _me_ to come with _you?"_ I asked.

"Well, I asked if you'd like to come which never really stated my liking towards you coming, but if you'd like to join me that would be fine, but if you'd rather stay here and rest because after all you did just have a panic attack, I guess that's fine too." he said rather quickly, with a very long sentence. "Cause you know you did have a panic attack and all, so I'd understand if you didn't want to come. But you know, Watson can't accompany me, I mean John, and I'd still like some company and you are a Watson too so maybe I would like your company just as much as your brother's but as I've said it's fine if you'd rather just stay here." he said still making long sentences but finally stopped, still looking at me.

I smiled at him, "I would love to accompany you. But I'd rather not look at the body, alright, cause you know, I might... panic." I said.

He nodded at this and went off, to get a coat perhaps. "Off we go then."


	8. Wastsons are the only people who can hang around Holmeses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoo, so this chapter will be in Sherlock's POV and will remain so until my next note!!!!!!!!  
> ALRIGHT?  
> Also, I did not spell proff this so. I. AM. SORRY. IF. THERE. ARE. TYPOS.  
> Mwahhhhhhhhh

Audrey had stayed still the entire ride to the crime scene. Her hands, fisted inside the pockets of her coat and her pulse was as fast as a baby's. And if you _simpleton_ didn't know, that was very fast.

She turned to me, just to look away. It was obvious that she was nervous and wanted to know what to do while at the crime scene, but was too reserved to ask.

"Lestrade." I said to her, as she bit her lower lip in nervousness.  
"What?"  
"Lestrade, Detective Inspector. Go up to him and introduce yourself, he'll show you what to do." I said to her looking outside of the window. "Stop here." I said.

I then got out, as the cabbie said something, probably something about the fair. Audrey paid him and got out after me. I walked off not really waiting for her but she called out for me, which made me turn around. She huffed and sorted herself out as I looked at her expectantly.

 

"Do I look okay?" she asked, clenching her jaw.

I knit my brows, _women and their excessive care for looks_. "It's a crime a scene, no one cares how you look-"

"No--no, I mean, do I-do I look like, like I don't have my life together." she asked, looking bashfully to the ground.

My face softened and I said, "Well, as long as you stay close to me, you will definitely look like you have _everything_ together." which made her chuckle and walk towards me, closely.

I'm not a fan of _excessive_ closeness but I'd rather not cause her another panic attack.

 

We got to scene, the body was still there, she couldn't help but look but immediately turned away. She shuddered and I took that as a sign to get to work.

 

The victim  **definitely** struggled, and was **definitely** _not_ given a quick death. He was repeatedly punched, kicked, slapped, and stabbed, but the reason of death is-

"Electrocution!" I shouted, turning to them, only to see an inattentive crowd, focused on Audrey, and were laughing.

 

"Did you not hear what I said? Electrocution! I just stated the reason of this man's death and you think that it's funny?" I said with a confused look.  
"I cannot believe it! I never thought anyone else could stand this wanker." Lestrade said, complimenting Audrey, obviously trying to flirt with her.  
"Rude! He's not a wanker, he's just... _fast, incredibly."_ Audrey replied, relaxing, putting her shoulders back.

"Well, I think I have come up with a conclusion." he said with a chuckle.  
"And what would that be, love?" Audrey nonchalantly asked.

Lestrade's face turned a shade red because of that pet name, _"Watsons_ are the only people who can hang around _Holmeses."_

 

I rolled my eyes at his poor grammatical skills and broke the conversation. "Shut up Lestrade, I bloody cracked the case and all you care about is your grammatically-ill sentence."

I didn't wait for them to reply and just explained the situation. Not stopping my explanation, continuing to be... _incredibly fast._ As I was talking, I noticed that Audrey's face turned in a way, not in the least good, as I told the gory details of the murder. So I decided it would be better for her to wait outside, rather than listen to the details of the murder.

 

"The door would be that way." I interrupted myself, just to continue.

 

At first, obviously no one quite understood, as it was too quick for their tiny minds to grasp. I continued to explain the matter but felt the need to halt after seeing the look on everyone's confused faces.

"Audrey, the door is that way." I said, turning to her, stopping myself altogether. "Go on. Wait outside for me. I'll be out there shortly, depending on how many times I have to explain myself."

 

At this point, I had continued my explanation, cracked the case, and asked, "What do I need to elaborate?"  
"Definitely not that you're an **arse."** Donovan said, arms and eyebrows crossed and all.

I noticed most of the people had left, including Donovan now, and everyone that was still inside had a disapproving look on their face.

 

I got out of the room and saw Lestrade with his arms crossed. "Apologize to her, or else." he said with a stern look. I gave back a an equally stern and annoyed look back at him.  
"Or else you'll what, remove me from the case? I just solved it in three seconds and yet he-"  
"Or else she will never go outside again." he replied, nodding his head to the woman sitting on a bench by a bus stop sign. _Never_ go outside, what an exaggeration, but I got what he meant.

I sighed at this and gave Lestrade a hard look. "You know how I feel about apologies." True, I apologized to her a while ago, but that was because  I had pushed her. This time around, I had done her a favor and made her leave before the case stuck in her head like honey on biscuits.

"Well then take her home and make her tea. Calm her down for goodness' sake." he said looking off, huffing out air. "Jes- I cannot believe you broke her already. She just got- I cann-- I just-- _you are unbelievable."_ he said finally making up his mind.  
"Yes I understand that I-"  
"See you around Sherlock."

 

I was left there, forced to talk to a person I _broke_  in one day.

I walked to her, not really knowing how to address what I should do, and saw that she had a wrinkled piece of paper and was drawing something using _dirt._

"Shhhhh... do not speak while I create." she said as she then spat on the paper.

I knit my brows at her actions,but followed her request, nonetheless, and observed her movements. I saw the skill in every curve motion of her fingers and every stroke on the paper. I knew about abstract art but I also knew that she was not an abstract artist, which made me wonder why she was making such an abstract thing.

As I wondered she turned to me and smirked. Once I saw this and wondered why everyone was cross with me was _perfectly fine._ She didn't have a panic attack, she didn't cry, and she had a smirk on her face.

 

Once she was satisfied with her work, she held it up and turned to me. "A portrait of your likeness." she handed.

I took it from her, still not understanding, kind of guessing maybe she meant because the portrait was all messed up, I was all messed up as well. After all that contemplation, she then groaned. "For someone who thinks so high of himself, you cannot solve this with a little perspective." she said standing up, leaving me there, still wondering.

"Come on Holmes, we must go home."

 

_Perspective._

With that word my mind clicked and I then turned the paper upside down to see that it was a portrait... in my likeness.

She had drawn me upside down.


	9. Love, isnt it hateful?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BRUHHH, I'M THINKING OF ENDING THIS AT CHAPTER TEN BUT MAYBE I'LL CONTINUE IF I GET THE INSPIRATION.
> 
> SORRY FOR THE POSSIBLE TYPOS.
> 
> BYEEEEEEE. xxx

We got home. It was silent. Mrs. Hudson was nowhere to be found and John was still out.

Audrey did not say anything on our way home, neither did she when we actually got here. It was one of those silences that made everything noisier. Because of this, I could hear my heart beating. It's not like I'm not used to quiet like this, it's just that knowing what had just happened a while ago makes me this atmosphere off.

Nevertheless, I was standing somewhere by the corner of the room, staring into the abyss of the wallpaper. I thought about the events that happened, about the drawing, and about Audrey and her appeal.

It's quite odd that everyone just seems to run to her side even though she had just met them. Odd that there was an automatic liking towards her, as though she was literally capable of no wrong. Why _is_ that?

Was it because she was _beautiful?_

Or maybe  _likable?_

Or _kind?_

Or whatever _normal people_ seem to like so much?

 

Maybe it was because she was capable, capable of art that people might like. I mean, I was still quite impressed with what she had done. Her portrait of me was now stuck in between two hard bound books I had placed it on. I thought that maybe she just turned her drawing upside down when she made it, but pushed that thought away because a person like her would never lie about things like that.

 

I now pushed those thoughts away, then heard chatter from behind me. I turned to see that Watson, the both of them, were talking, and laughing, and eating dinner. Audrey had a big smile on her face and John had a reasonably smaller one.

They noticed that I was back in reality and their faces changed, Audrey's softened and John's hardened.

"You're just in time. Your food is still warm." Audrey said, pushing the plate meant for me, towards me. John threw me a cold look, insisting I return the kindness. I walked to them, sat on the table, and got my utensils.

"So Sherlock, what-"  
_"Why are you_ **always** such an arse?" John interrupted his sister, dropping his fork, turning to me with a stern look on his face.  
"John, I told you it's alri-"  
"NO AUDREY. It's really not."

 

They obviously were talking about what had happened, about how I handled the situation, asking her to leave for her own good as I did see the look on her uncomfortable face, uncomfortable was actually an understatement. Instead of stating that I was incapable of apologizing for something I did not feel sorry for, I stood up and walked away, heading to my bedroom.

I wasn't going to sleep, I just needed a quiet place to think.

I heard them raise their voices over me and rolled my eyes. I guess I'm going to have to make due with the noise. I stood by the window, and thought, but it was too loud, I couldn't get to my mind palace.  
But, while we're still at it, if Audrey didn't think it was a big deal, why did John have to insist on picking a fight?

 

I chuckled dryly, then scoffed. _"Love,_ isn't it hateful?"

 

Why would anyone want to expose themselves to it? It doesn't give you advantage, just a heap of disadvantages. It makes you unnecessarily fight for things. It makes you feel sympathy, and baggage, and literal, physical pain. Why do people waste so much time on wanting love when it hardly went their way?

After all those heart broken love songs, you'd think the artists actually listened to their own advice. It's total rubbish, love. A complete and utter waste of time.

 

"Sherlock," I heard Audrey say. I didn't turn around, however. I knew she either wanted to talk about what happened a while ago, or talk about sleeping here again, but either way it involved talking to me and I don't want to converse.

"Sherlock," she repeated, "I know you can hear me because you're solid as a rock when you're in your... _mind palace,_ that's what you call it right? But right now your fingers and moving." She said, satisfaction evident in her tone.

"What? You can sleep on the bed, but I don't want to waste time on talking about your brother's need to fight me because of you." I said turning to her for a moment, but turning away immediately after.

She was quiet for a moment, but she did not move from her place as I heard her inhale heavily. "I wanted to thank you for what you had done earlier today."

 

"... _thank you for what you had done_..." I snapped back and gave a confused look.  
She laughed slightly, cutting my words off before I could even utter them.  
"Now you're confused because you realized you had embarrassed me in a room full of strangers. You realized that because of how John reacted." She spoke her words briefly, not rushing like I would. Now, she stepped forward and placed her hand on my shoulder.

"You saw the look on my face. I was evidently uncomfortable and you thought not having me in the room would be best." She removed her hand on my shoulder."You weren't trying to embarrass me, but tried to help me. I thank you for that, for caring enough by acting quickly.

"The thing about you is that you think everything through, twice, but you don't think about it long enough. That's what make you great, being fast thinker. It's also what doesn't make you great... but I'd never try to change that, no one should, only ever you." she said, cracking a soft smile. "I hope you don't hate my brother because of me or because he can't understand that." with that, she hugged me. It wasn't a long embrace but it was long enough.

I let her hug me... because I didn't see it coming.

She made you feel inconsistent. She was like a bomb you're just waiting, **wanting** to go off, but... wanting to turn off as well. I know for a fact she wasn't like the others, other _normal people._ Sure was still slower paced, but she got it. She could see the forest for the trees.

 

She then broke away and walked out of the room.

For some reason, I kind of hoped she stayed, so she could go to sleep but I think it's best she didn't.


	10. James!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter will be in Audrey's point of view. Love ya.  
> I also don't know why I feel so uncomfortable with using the date today which is why I used a different date.... I DUNNO, I DUNNO LET ME LIVE  
> APOLOGIES ONCE AGAIN FOR ANY TYPOS. I HAVE NOT EDITED IT BECAUSE I AM LAZY.  
> MWAH LOVE YOU THO, SO LOVE ME TOO  
> xxx

I was outside.

I needed breather, to get inspiration, and to paint the stress away. I had a blank canvas with me and the colors red, blue, and yellow in a tube of paint. I was walking around London, I think, literally getting lost.

I stopped at end of the street, close to the park, and sat down on the pavement. I took some paint and started using my fingers as brushes. I saw the beauty in nature, in the buildings, in the passers by. I smiled and made an interpretation to that beauty, taking the world as it is, but adding flowers everywhere, or replacing flowers to whatever part of the painting I wanted. Imagine a fire hydrant with flowers around it, a man with a flower as his head, or a woman with a flower as a dress.

I smiled at it's oddness and heard a voice from behind me. "Now that is a signature Audrey Watson painting." I knit my eyebrows and turned around. I then saw that it was James, as in James, my college friend, James.

"My goodness!" I gasped at the sight of his face. "James!" I stood up and then literally jumped on him, locking my legs around his waist and embracing him tightly. He laughed but embraced me, equally as tight.

"Jamie-jam-jimmy-jim-jame-wame-James." I uttered through my smile pushing back and getting on my feet. He laughed and locked his eyes on me as I noticed he had a blue line on his face. I giggled but said nothing as he opened his mouth before I got to.

"Ardie-add-audie-aude-waude-Audrey." he chuckled through his smile. "I must be the luckiest man to have been able to come across you today." he said caressing my face. I then laughed and poked him on the side of his face. "You have a little blue paint line." I said going to my pockets, trying to look for a tissue.

 

He playfully pouted and felt that side of his face. 

 

"At least you had the decency to tell me that now." He said, pulling out tissue from his pocket, right after I did. "No, no. It was my fault, let me wipe it." and so I did.

We then ended up walking around town, the gentleman carried my painting all the way, as we caught up with each other. Taking the longest way possible back to my apartment. I talked about my work and my travels, and he talked about his work and his business. He was a product distributor, but was mostly a counselor who has helped people with a lot of their problems.

"Aww James, that's amazing. You're a real life super hero." I said to him, elbowing his side gently. "Look at you, helping people and all." He chuckled, lowly and said that he was hardly doing any good to be called a hero.  
"I'm not a hero. I'm hardly a good counselor. My advice is usually shoot 'em in the head then make a run for it." He joked, making me laugh.  
"Oh quit it. It's actually better this way, that you don't think you're a hero, because heroes who think that they are just wind up being arrogant fools."

He smiled, but it quickly faded as I stopped, meaning we were at my apartment.

 

"Can I convince you to take another long way back to your home?" he said fake pout, handing me my now dry painting. I chuckled, thought about it, but ended up declining. "My brother must be losing his mind, as I didn't really _ask for permission_ to leave. He treats me like an 8 year old,  he always needs to know if and where I'm going out. Besides, my feet are killing me, I've been touring London all morning." I said with a sigh. "But I definitely want to hang out again. My phone number hasn't changed." I added quickly, making his face light up.

"Great, well, I'd love to hang out with you anytime, but... unfortunately, I have a busy schedule, so when I say anytime... it means I have to put you in between my appointments. But I'll call you." he said walking away. I smiled, nodded yes, and waved goodbye. I then walked inside and huffed, getting ready for the _wrath of the brother_.

 

I went upstairs, got inside, then saw John, with his arms crossed and Sherlock, not caring, playing his violin. I rolled my eyes as John gave me a lecture about needing to tell him where I was going to go before I left and I gave the _I-am-not-a-child-anymore_ statement plus and another eye roll. We had a not too long argument that lead with John telling me how dangerous London has gotten.

As a summary, John realized that I was right, I was now my own person, then got all sobby then we hugged it out. Sherlock was playing his violin the whole time.

 

I put my painting on the surface, where the mirror was placed then looked at it briefly. John smiled at me and my work, saying, "It's beautiful _Dey-Bri."_

"You really think so?" I asked. He nodded then put and arm around my shoulder. "Do you honestly believe that just anyone would be capable of doing something like that? I can't even draw a flower with even sides, let alone a three-dimensional one." John said, making me laugh.

He then broke away and said that he was going out again... this time with another woman, the last one didn't quite work out.

"Just give up, Johnny-boy." I shouted to him on his way out. "Never gonna give me encouragement, are you?" he shouted back, halfway down the stairs. I chuckled then shouted, "Never!" I laughed at out silliness then got a fountain pen from Sherlock's table, then signed the painting.

**AUDREY WATSON**

**JULY 9 2011**

 

 

I was now watching Sherlock play, wanting to draw him as well, but could not because I didn't want this to end like before. I saw that he was very into playing his instrument, and that he was definitely loving every second of it as his face was so very concentrated. I was honestly expecting his piece to go on forever. Once he played his final note, I couldn't help but be surprised and clap.

He turned around, not expecting to hear applause.   
"You are really good at playing. And it's not like your current job won't work out... but if ever it doesn't, I am sure the London orchestra would love to have you play with them." I said with a smile, in a genuine tone, making his eyes roll.

"I knew you'd do that. Nonetheless, I firmly stand on that opinion." I said standing up, walking towards him and getting his violin and bow.   
"Now teach me." I said.

He was about to walk away, but I grabbed a hold of his arm.

"Please." I gave my signature puppy dog eyes.   
"No." he said, taking his violin and bow away from me, and played once again. I laughed at that, then said, "I knew you'd do that."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!


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